


Strange Love

by orkakid



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Demon!Zayn, Ghost!AU, M/M, Paranormal, So much angst, demon!liam, ghost!harry, satan!zayn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:51:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orkakid/pseuds/orkakid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Baby, when we're touching in the dark</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Can you feel it?</i>
  <br/>
  <i>I can hear the pounding of my heart</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Can you feel it?</i>
  <br/>
  <i>When you take my body to the stars</i>
  <br/>
  <i>I believe it</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Boy, this love is supernatural</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Can you feel it?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>  <i>Harry hates humans, but for some reason, he hates Niall a little bit less.</i></i>
</p><p>
  <i>  <i> Title from Strange Love - Ke$ha</i><br/><i>Description from Supernatural - Ke$ha</i></i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

"Please don't go. I need you."  
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I have to. My job is transferring me and I can't stay."  
"Louis, you need to stay."  
Harry felt Louis try to pull away from him, but Harry held on tightly. He didn't want to see all the boxes surrounding them. He didn't want to hear the moving wagons that came to take all of Louis' stuff away. He wanted Louis to stay here with him forever.  
"Harry, I have to go now..." Louis muttered, pulling himself away.  
"No." Harry said stubbornly, shifting over to the door and slamming it shut, blocking the entrance with his body.  
"I won't let you go!"  
"Harry, please. Don't make this more difficult than it has to be." Louis said tiredly, running his hand through his light brown hair.  
"You can't leave me, Louis! You're the first person to accept and love me for who I am! When am I going to find another person like that?" Harry asked. If he could cry, he would be. Louis smiled gently at him, stepping over boxes to reach the door.  
"You'll find someone else, I promise. You're a sweet boy and you've got plenty of time." Louis said, touching Harry's cheek lightly.  
"I don't want someone else, I want you." Harry's eyes darkened at Louis' touch, his aura growing dangerous. Louis drew his hand away slowly, frowning at the younger boy's sudden mood-swing. Harry shifted suddenly, and Louis spun around, trying to find the ghost. Harry was dangerous when he was in a bad mood.  
"You can't leave if I kill you. Then you can stay here forever. Just like me." Harry's voice came from all around Louis, sending fear straight to his stomach.  
"Harry, stop, this isn't funny." Louis stammered, grabbing for the doorknob, trying to wrench it open. To his dismay, the door remained closed.  
Harry was suddenly infront of him, his eyes completley black, a pillow in his hand.  
"See you soon." Harry said, a wicked grin on his face, before slamming the pillow in Louis' face.  
Louis didn't struggle for long, and he was dead within a minute. Harry heard his heart speed up and then slow down and then finally shudder to a halt, the older boy's body going slack. Harry took the pillow away, and Louis' body slumped down to the ground, his face frozen in a cry for help that no one would hear. Harry grimaced and looked away.  
"Louis?" He called out, looking for his lover's ghost. No reply came. Harry frowned. That was odd. When Harry had taken his own life so many years ago, he'd become a spirit instantly. Then it hit him.  
Harry had taken his own life.  
He'd killed Louis.  
Louis was free to move on to the Other World, while Harry was condemned to stay in this house forever.  
Harry couldn't mourn his friend for long, because a knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. Harry quickly unlocked the door and shifted back to the upper levels of the house, curling up in a corner of the attic. He listened as the door opened and cries started filling the air. He was certain they'd just discovered Louis' body.  
Harry let out a groan and buried his face in his knees. Idiot, idiot, idiot. He should have known that Louis wasn't going to stay with him. He was going to lose his friend and lover either way. Sadness filled his chest like a heavy brick. He wished he could cry.


	2. Chapter One

_~100 years later~_  
The sounds of boxes and furniture being thrown about was what roused Harry. He'd been having a rather good dream, something about being sent on to the Other World, and the sudden awakening set him up for a lousy mood.  
He shifted over to a window tiredly, leaning against the frame and peeking out through the dirty glass. Moving trucks and people greeted his eyes.  
It was about time someone moved in. The place had been vacant for weeks, since he'd accidentally spooked the last owners. Accidentally on purpose, more like. Harry smirked to himself as he watched burly moving men bring box after box into the new house. He wondered who these new people would be. Maybe an elderly couple. Those where the easiest to scare. Or maybe a teenager, straight out of college. Those were fun, too.  
Harry yawned and stretched, shifting down to the ground level of the house. All around him, men moved boxes and furniture into place. A couple of them accidentally walked through him, oblivious of his presence. It tickled when people walked through him, and he couldn't help but to let out a giggle every time it happened.  
Harry sunk down onto a couch that had just been set down, taking in the ruckus. He hadn't seen a family car yet, so he figured the people who had bought the house hadn't yet arrived.  
Harry let out a sigh. The excitment of a new family was starting to wear off and boredom setting in. He yawned, stretching out on the couch. It was comfortable, he could get used to it. He shut his eyes and yawned again, tuning out the sounds of the movers. He'd just take a quick nap while he waited for the new family...  
~  
The sound of the door slamming open startled Harry so badly, he fell right off the couch.  
"Calm down, ya' stupid cat, we're here now." A younger, male voice grumbled. The sound of a yowling cat filled the house, making Harry flinch. He didn't have a problem with cats. In fact, he loved cats, and cats seemed to love him, but when they were screaming their stupid heads off, that's when it was a problem.  
Harry quickly got to his feet, dusting himself off. Infront of him stood a boy with a shock of blonde hair, holding a large cat carrier. Fuzzy, cream-colored paws batted at the bars and the animal attached to them let out another cry, making the blonde boy roll his eyes.  
"Calm down, Toby." He moaned, dropping the carrier and making the cat hiss. Harry snuck over to the carrier after the boy went back outside and got down on his hands and knees infront of the gate.  
"Hey there, bud." He whispered, sticking his finger in between the bars. The cat, Toby, sniffed at his finger curiously. It was a pretty cat; a long-haired Himalayan with bright blue eyes.  
"Hey, the cat stopped yelling." Another voice said, this one deeper but also male. Harry glanced up from the cage to see what he imagined was the blonde boy's father come in the house with a large box in his hand. He paused in the doorway, staring at the cage.  
"Crazy cat..." He finally muttered before heading up the stairs. Harry briefly wondered which room they'd all be taking. The cat inside the carrier licked Harry's finger, drawing his attention back to it.  
Harry liked cats because they could see him whether he was visible or not and they treated him like a normal human. Dogs on the other hand just barked at him and wouldn't shut up no matter what he did. He hated dogs.  
Suddenly, he felt a tickling sensation in his lower back and looked back to see the blonde boy crouching in the middle of his back.  
"What're you doing, Toby?" The boy asked, peering at the cat, who was still licking Harry's finger. Harry's eyes widened and he pulled his finger out of the carrier, rolling so the blonde kid wasn't standing in him. As soon as Harry moved away from the cage, the cat started crying again, and the blonde boy groaned.  
"You're weird, you know that?" He muttered, sticking his fingers through the bars and nuzzling the cats head.  
"Niall! Come get your guitar!" A female voice called from outside. The blonde boy, Niall, glanced up.  
"One second, mum! I gotta bring this other box upstairs!" He replied, grabbing the box he had put down and quickly bring it up the stairs. Harry crossed his legs indian-style, watching the boy leave. So his name was Niall. He studied him as he raced back down the stairs and out the door. There weren't a lot of boys Harry's age in this house, mostly because of it's age and size. It was a big house and it was almost as old as Harry himself. In human years, of course.  
Harry shifted up to his old room, the one that's only about two feet from the stairs on the right. The room was full of boxes marked 'Niall's room'. Harry cocked an eyebrow at them, sitting on the edge of the bare mattress that was pushed up against a wall. So he'd be sharing a room with Niall. Perfect way to get to know him better.  
Harry held out his hand in front of him, switching between solidity and opacity, when the blonde boy, Niall, walked in, a guitar case in one hand. He shut the door quickly behind him, a sigh escaping his lips at the sudden silence. Harry shoved his hands under his arms, watching as the boy took a seat next to him on the bed, opening the case and pulling out a beautiful acoustic guitar. He pulled it into his lap, quickly finding a finger position and strumming out a chord.  
Harry watched, fascinated, as Niall quickly started strumming out a difficult chord pattern, softly humming along. Harry had never heard the song before, but it was a really nice song and Niall was really good at guitar. He almost told him so when he caught himself, realizing he hadn't even introduced himself yet. Right as he opened his mouth to give himself away, the female voice came ringing through the door.  
"Niall! We're about to do our first reading on the house! Want to come watch?" She yelled from the bottom of the stairs and Harry frowned. Reading? Like, spiritual? From the Bible?  
Niall groaned next to him.  
"Yeah, I'll be down in a second!" He called back, tucking his guitar back in the case.  
Too curious to let this slip by, Harry shifted down to the kitchen, where the two adults had a bunch of fancy machinery set up on a card table. Harry frowned deeper, taking a step forward to study the gadgets closer. Some of them looked a bit like typewriters with a thin strip of paper poking out one end, and others looked like toys, with what looked like LCD lights sticking out from all sides. Harry crossed his arms and took a step back, leaning against the breakfast bar behind him as Niall joined them around the table.  
"I've heard all sorts of great things about this house from previous owners, how it's haunted by some murderous ghost." The female said excitedly.  
Harry's eyes widened a little bit. So that's what this was all about. They were here to study him. The fact that she had called him murderous struck a nerve. It was one time, and it wasn't like he meant to kill him. Okay, so he did mean to kill Louis, but he just wanted him to stay.  
The older male reached over to the wall and dimmed the lights as the female started flipping switches on the machines. Buzzes and beeps started ringing out, and the machines with paper started eating up the material and spitting it back out the other side with lines etched into them. Harry cocked an eyebrow, growing amused. He noticed a yawn slip out Niall's lips, and he figured this wasn't the first time the blonde boy had seen this before.  
"Hello!" The male suddenly called out, making Harry jump a bit. "We are the new owners of this house! We are not here to harm you!" He paused, as if awaiting an answer, and Harry let out a giggle. This was ridiculous.  
"I'm Bobby Horan, this is my wife, Maura, and this is our son, Niall! What is your name?" The man asked. Harry laughed, inaudible to them, of course, but decided to humor them.  
"Harry." He replied, in a way he knew the detectors would pick up. They also may or may not have picked up his laughter before hand, he'd never seen these kinds of instruments but he's had experience with similar ones.  
After a few seconds, the man, Bobby, grabbed a device, hitting a button and putting it up to his ear. After a few seconds, there was Harry's voice, static-y and tinny through the speaker. The adults looked at each other excitedly while Niall bent down and picked up the cat that Harry hadn't realized was there, looking bored. Harry furrowed his brow. Why wasn't he excited, too?  
"We've heard a lot about you!" The female, Maura, spoke up. Harry didn't know what he was supposed to say to that, so he didn't say anything.  
"Harry, can you come touch this?" Bobby asked, picking up a device with a spike jutting out of it with a little lightbulb at the end. Harry wasn't exactly sure what it was, but after Bobby had placed it back on the table, he walked over and poked the light. To his amusement, the device burst to life, lights shining and horns blaring. He pulled his hand away and the instrument shut off.  
"Does that entertain you? Are you excited that something is reacting to your touch?" Maura asked.  
No. Harry thought to himself, but didn't say anything.  
He poked the light again, just to make them happy. Harry was almost sure he heard Maura squeal as the device jumped to life again.  
Bobby grabbed a device that looked like a chunky cell-phone and flipped it open.  
"How old are you, Harry?" He asked, pressing a button on the phone-thing. It made an ugly shreiking sound, and Harry flinched.  
"Eighteen." He said, and he heard his voice come through on the reciver of the phone.  
"And how long have you been eighteen?"  
That one tripped Harry up a little bit.  
"What's the year?" He asked absent-mindedly, his voice sounding static-y and scrape-y through the device.  
"2012." Niall offered helpfully. Harry glanced up at the boy, who was stroking the cat's head with a bored expression on his face.  
2012? Already? It seems like just yesterday it had been 1900...  
Harry shook his head a bit, thinking back. He'd definetly killed Lou in 1912, that was a year he was likely to never forget, and Harry had only been dead for about a hundred years before that...  
"About two-hundred years." Harry said finally. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to how awful and distorted his voice sounded playing back through that God awful thing. "Why does it matter to you?"  
"We're simply curious. Might as well get to know the other members of his household?" Bobby stated in a tone that he had probably thought was breezy but came off as a bit choked, but with nervousness or excitement, Harry, couldn't tell.  
"This is my house." Harry said flatly, watching their reactions carefully. Bobby and Maura seemed to be almost climbing the walls while Niall still looked like he was about to fall asleep. Harry frowned. Why wasn't Niall reacting? He shifted so he was standing behind Niall, his chest pressed to the blonde boy's back. Niall shuddered a bit, like he'd just felt a draft.  
"Mine." Harry growled in the blonde's ear, making him jump forward an inch and drop the cat, who yowled unhappily before scampering off.  
"It was right in my ear!" Niall cried breathlessly, his hand flying up to cover the side of his head. "I-I think I felt him!"  
"Are you still here, Harry?" Bobby asked, but Harry didn't care about them anymore. He stood a few feet back, watching as Niall's eyes scanned the air. His eyes passed over Harry, and Harry shivered under his gaze, momentarily wished the blonde could see him, but then Niall kept looking. Looking for Harry, obviously. But it wasn't like he was going to find him. Harry wasn't ready to show himself.  
Not here. Not now.  
Well, not yet, anyways.


	3. Chapter Two

Later that evening, Niall sat on his bed (which still didn't have sheets) tooling around on his guitar. Harry sat off to the side, against a wall, listening. He wasn't sure why the fact that Niall didn't react to him made him so agitated. The blank expression that came over Niall's face shortly after Harry had startled him made Harry so frustrated that he didn't know what to do with himself.   
Harry fed off of reactions now-a-days. He loved the sound of a good shriek when he wrote in the fog of a mirror right after a shower, or the clattering of a dish being dropped when he started throwing glasses around. Each scream reminded him that no one could ever love him the way Louis did. No one could look past the fact that Harry was dead and invisible and practically had their lives wrapped around his little finger. No one ever took the time to try to get to know him. But Harry didn't care anymore. He forgot what love felt like. All he knew was hate, fear. And to be honest, he liked it.   
Niall's refusal to be frightened scared Harry a bit. He wasn't used to people ignoring him, and it was frustrating. He wanted to see the boy scared of him. He wanted to prove to himself that this boy wasn't and could never be different.  
Whoa. Harry shook his head slightly. Where'd that thought come from? Had he thought that Niall could be different than the rest? His lack of enthusiasm could make the difference?   
_No_ , Harry told himself firmly. Niall wasn't any different than the 20 year old girl that was here last. As soon as he gave the blonde a good scare, he'd be begging his parents to leave.   
A knock on the door shook both boys from their thoughts. Niall stopped strumming on his guitar and glanced up.  
"Yeah?" He called out.   
"It's getting late, sweetie. Do you need help finding your sheets?" Niall's mum asked through the door.   
Late? Harry glanced out the window to find that it _was_  awfully dark out. He vaugley wondered what time it was.  
"No, I can do it myself." Niall replied, leaning his guitar up against the nearest wall and walking up to the first box he saw.   
"That could take a while." Harry murmured, inaudible to anyone else of course, scanning the boxes. Even though there were only a few, they were all unmarked besides the repeated "Niall's room" printed on the sides. The blonde would have to go through each individual box. Harry wished he could help, but he hadn't formally introduced himself yet, and he didn't have x-ray vision. Going through the boxes uninvited would be sort of rude.   
It wasn't until Niall had found the sheets and was fixing up his bed that Harry frowned at himself. Since when did he care about whether what he did was nice or not? Scaring people was his favorite thing to do, for crying out loud. The fact that this boy was starting to break him a little irritated Harry. He needed to scare Niall, prove to himself that this weird boy wasn't any different.   
Why not scare him now? Harry grinned inwardly as he studied Niall, who was humming softly to himself as he folded the blankets over at the top. Something inside Harry shuddered, something he hadn't felt in a long, long time, but he brushed it away. What could he do to get under Niall's skin, to frighten him so bad that he'd no longer be a threat to Harry? He glanced at an unopened box to his left, and smirked. Without even thinking, he grabbed the box and launched it onto the blonde's bed.   
Niall stopped, his hands freezing on the blankets as he glanced up. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes darted around the air, his brain furiously trying to process what had just happened. Harry grinned widely, happy he now had the boy's attention.   
Harry reached down and grabbed another box, tossing it up into the air a few times, watching as Niall's face slowly paled.   
Perfect. Harry giggled a little bit and he chucked the box at the blonde's head.  
Niall narrowly ducked the flying box, a gasp escaping his lips as he hit the ground.   
"What the fuck?" He whispered loudly, his bright blue eyes tearing apart the air where Harry stood. Niall clambored to his feet, and Harry could practically hear his heart racing.   
"H-Harry?" Niall stammered, as if testing the name out on his tongue. Harry froze for a second. Had the blonde boy just used his name?   
"What?" Harry spat back, and he heard a sigh escape Niall's lips, watching as the boy plopped down on his mattress.   
"Why are you throwing my boxes?" Niall asked, his eyes still scanning for the ghost.   
"Why not?" Harry sniffed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.  
"What if something's breakable?" Niall pressed. Harry noticed his accent again. It was different than the accents he was used to, probably Irish. Harry would never admit it, but it was kind of cute.   
"I hope something broke." Harry sneered. Niall huffed softly, crossing his arms.  
"Why are you being so rude? What did I ever do to you?" The blonde asked dejectedly, and again, Harry felt a flutter in his chest cavity. How was he supposed to answer that? The presumably-Irish lad sat up a little straighter when Harry didn't reply.  
"Harry? Are you still there?"  
"No." That sounded stupid and childish, and Harry quickly regretted saying it after he heard Niall's stupid little giggle. This wasn't working. He was supposed to be scaring Niall, not making him giggle like a girl. Harry felt anger heating up his cheeks. Why won't Niall just scream for him? Run out of the room in terror? What was he doing wrong?   
Harry grunted in frustration, automatically delivering a flying kick into the side of a box, sending it crashing into the wall. Niall frowned.  
"What do you look like, Harry?" He asked innocently. Harry gaped at him a bit. Where'd that question even come from?  
"Why the fuck do you care?" Harry shot back. A flash of hurt shone in Niall's eyes, and Harry instantly wanted to take the words back. No, no he didn't.   
"If I'm gonna be living with you, I might as well know what you look like." The blonde huffed.   
"Well you can forget about it." Harry snapped, and with that, he shifted down to the couch, fed up with the Irish lad. He curled up on his side, anger surging through every fiber of his being.   
Stupid Niall. He'd scare him later. He had to. Stupid Niall.  
~  
Harry must've fallen asleep. A tickling sensation in his middle brought him giggling awake, and he looked down to see Toby, who was curled up and purring contendedly in his sleep. Harry smiled at the cat, plucking it from his stomach and putting it on his lap. The cat protested for a second, but instantly readjusted and was quickly purring up a storm as Harry scratched his ears.   
Harry liked cats. Cats didn't frustrate him beyond compare.  
Harry briefly wondered what time it was, shifting to the kitchen so he could check the time. If he was still alive, he'd raid their cabinets. He sort of missed the feeling of being hungry.   
2:04 am. Harry let out a yawn, stretching his arms over his head. He was constantly sleeping. That's what he did when his emotions got too much for him. Bored? Sleep it off. Angry? Sleep until he's not. Anxious? Sleep until he's bored and then sleep some more.   
Sleeping was the only human function he could do anymore. He couldn't use the toilet or eat or... anything else humans needed to do to survive. Harry didn't nessecarily even _need_ to sleep. He could go for months without sleeping and still feel fine and perky.   
Harry let out a little grunt as he finished his stretch. His mind flitted back to Niall and he grimaced a bit. Half of him was dying to shift up to the room and the other half was still pissed with the boy for refusing to scare. Harry chewed the inside of his lip, weighting his options.   
Finally, with a sigh, Harry shifted up to Niall's bedroom to find the boy nescled in his blankets, snoring lightly. It felt like Harry's chest had caved in. Something about seeing the boy at his most vurlnerable made Harry want to cuddle up to him like he was a cat or something. Not for any other reason. Harry was still pissed at Niall.   
However, Harry found it hard to stay angry at the blonde as he sat down next to the mattress. He looked so peaceful and innocent in his sleep. Even though the room was dark, Harry started to notice little things about Niall, like the way his face scrunched up a little when he snored especially loud. Harry pulled his knees up to his chest, completely and utterly fascinated in watching Niall sleep.  
Before he knew it, sun was poaring in the windows and the blonde boy was starting to stir. Harry had been completly entrigued by the way Niall hadn't turned once in his sleep, when the boy's eyes fluttered open. They locked with Harry's and for a second, Harry swore he felt his heart stop (if it could, that is). But Niall just yawned widely and rolled onto his back, completley unaware that he had just been watched for a solid seven hours.   
"Hey, Tobe." Niall said sleepily, and Harry almost spoke out, about to ask if Niall was talking to him, when he noticed the cat, rubbing it's head into Niall's calf. Harry shut his mouth quickly, biting his lip almost too hard.   
He didn't know what happened, but watching Niall sleep had caused a slight flutter in his stomach, and it made him feel slightly naseous. Harry wrapped his arms around his torso as he watched Niall roll himself out of bed and start pawing through a large box that probably containes all his clothes. These feelings were annoying and Harry wanted them to stop.  
Niall wasn't different. Niall would never be different. He was just a kid with blonde hair and a cute accent. Who didn't care when Harry threw his stuff at him. Harry groaned inwardly and buried his face in his hands.   
Feelings were fucking difficult.


	4. Chapter Three

No matter how comfortable the couch had seemed yesterday, Harry just couldn't seem to get comfortable on it now, tossing and turning in a useless effort to fall asleep. Sure, it was the middle of the day. Sure, the sunlight seemed to be making a direct path towards his closed eyelids. Sure, the house was loud with the sounds of unpacking. Harry didn't care. The emotions coursing through his veins were so strong, it was making his head ache. All he wanted was to _sleep_.   
But he couldn't get his mind off of Niall. Something inside him had snapped as he watched Niall sleep. Something dangerous, no doubt. Although Harry would never admit to anyone, he was scared to fall in love again. It had taken him _years_  to get over Louis, and he _really_  didn't want to do it again. Being in love was nice, yeah, but the heartbreak outweighed it all, and Harry knew that Niall wasn't going to last forever, but whether that meant moving or dying, he didn't want to know.  
But Niall was just so different already, and Harry had only talked to him once. Well, talked was a bit of an overstatement. But the way the Irish boy had reacted to Harry was something else. It lit a spark of hope in Harry's chest that, and although he didn't trust it, he decided to let grow a little instead of extinguishing immediately. It made him a bit sick, however, the fact that he was letting his guard down so quickly. Harry groaned inwardly and burrowed his head farther under the pillows. Why was sleeping avoiding him?   
Harry hadn't realized the house had grown silent around him, the only sounds being a faint rustling from upstairs. Harry sat up, confused. Hadn't there been people here only two seconds ago? Maybe he _had_  dozed off without realizing it.   
"Mum!" Niall yelled from the top of the stairs, breaking the silence and scaring Harry right off the couch.   
_Twice in one week_ , Harry thought grumpily, brushing his hair out of his eyes. After the silence ensued once again, Harry heard footsteps thundering down the stairs before the blonde boy appeared in the living room, his hair still uncombed and his cheeks a bit pink, most likely from running all around his room. Niall's eyebrows furrowed as he realized that his parents were no longer in the building.   
"Damn." He cursed softly, running his hand through his hair, which only succeded in messing it up even more.   
Harry and Niall were alone yet again. Harry blinked, realization dawning on him. He could finally give Niall the scare of his life. With no one around, the possibilities of what he could do were endless. But Harry realized that, suddenly, he didn't really _want_  to scare Niall anymore.   
What was he talking about, of course he wanted to scare Niall. He wasn't _that_ weak.   
Niall rolled over the back of the couch, letting out a sigh of exhaustion as he sunk into the cushions. Harry watched him warily, chewing his lip. This internal struggle was a bit too much for him. He _needed_  to show Niall that he was a scary guy and that the blonde _should_  be scared of him. But what could he do?   
Suddenly, a thought came to Harry. It was drastic, possibly dangerous, and he'd never tried it before. But he was so fed up that he was willing to try anything...  
Even possession.   
But would it scare Niall? Would he even know what was going on?   
Maybe he should just stick with something simpler, like dragging the other boy down the basement stairs. If Harry could leave the house, he'd shift Niall to some graveyard and attempt some scary-looking ritual that included blood sacrifices, candles and pentagrams, but he couldn't do that.   
As soon as Harry stood to, well, he wasn't quite sure what he had meant to do, but whatever he was about to do was interrupted when Niall's mum and dad burst through the door with _tons_  and _tons_  of bags. Niall jumped off the couch, running to help them.  
"Dammit!" Harry cursed loudly, to himself. He shifted up to the attic and curled up in the corner, fully overwhelmed with his frustration. He hadn't been up here in a while, not since Louis... left. Harry wished _he_  could leave. He missed Louis. A lot. But something about the way Niall acted towards Harry reminded the ghost of Louis. Maybe it was the kindness, or version of kindness, he got. Maybe it was how Niall didn't scream when he knew Harry was near. Maybe it was Niall's startling blue eyes that simply took Harry's breath away. Or maybe it was something else he hadn't yet identified. But whatever it was, it was giving Harry those _feelings_  that he hadn't felt in over a hundred years. And Harry sort of hated them.   
Harry tilted his head back against the wall, letting his eyes slide closed. Maybe the feelings would go away after a good, long _sleep_.   
~  
They didn't go away. Of course, they didn't go away. If anything, the nauseous feeling in Harry's stomach just got worse. He'd slept most of the day and if he slept for another minute he feared he may slip into a coma. So he got up.  
The attic was chilly and Harry's neck was a bit stiff from sleeping on it weird, but when he shifted down to the main level, everything was dark and silent. Harry wandered up to Niall's room, feeling disoriented, to find the boy asleep. Harry frowned. Had he really slept the whole day? Sure enough, the clock on Niall's bed-side table read 3:21, and Harry groaned a little. How was he supposed to get _anything_  done if he slept all day.   
Harry ran his tongue over his teeth contemplatively as he watched the smaller boy sleep. He could do it now easily. Although he'd never had the urge to try possession before, there's always a first time for everything. He chewed his tongue as he crept over to the bedside, wondering how exactly he was supposed to _take over_  the body in front of him. He experimentally pushed his hand into Niall's, watching as his own translucent hand melted with the Irish boy's paler skin. He flexed his fingers, but only his fingers twitched, while Niall's hand remained still.   
Harry bit his lip before flopping himself down on the bed, curling his body into the same position as Niall, sucking in his cheeks to keep the giggles in. The tickles that racked his body were almost not worth it, considering how he felt nothing different and every time he twitched, his own translucent limbs came apart from the opaque ones he was trying to merge with. All he could think about was how now would be an awful time to solidify.  
Finally, just as he thought he was going to go mad with tickles, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let his mind go blank. Only then did he feel a weird, tugging sensation in his chest and a sense that he was falling, falling, falling into an endless pit of black before it was like a bungee chord snapped him back and he flew up in bed, trembling and drenched in sweat. He went to brush his curls off he forehead when something caught his eye. His hand. Or more so the fact that it /wasn't/ his hand. He ran his hand across his forehead to find shorter strands resting there. Harry grinned. He had done it. He was in Niall's body.   
So, now what? Now that he'd gotten in, what was he supposed to do now? Harry ran a hand through his - Niall's - hair. He wasn't sure where the other boy had gone or what he was doing and what-not, but Harry hoped he wasn't _too_  present because Harry was about to be awfully bad at this possession thing.   
~  
A few hours later, Harry rolled back into Niall's bed, feeling satisfied and exhausted and ready to just be _Harry_  again. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let his mind go blank. He felt a tugging in his chest, and a falling feeling in the pit of his gut before he was snapped back into reality and a body full of tickles. Harry rolled off the bed just as Niall launched himself upward, gasping for air and his forehead sheer with sweat that hadn't been there two seconds ago. His pupils were blown and his hands were shaking as he grasped blindly at the sheets before he realized that he was in his own bed, and he let out a long, wavering sigh, drawing his knees up to his chest and dropping his head down on his kneecaps.   
Harry's heart lurched at the sight of the boy so obviously terrified. He almost, _almost_ , felt a pang of regret, but he didn't. He wasn't _that_  weak. He did, however, mentally file 'possession' under 'only-for-very-very-desperate-measures'.   
Niall sat awake in bed for two more hours, rocking himself gently back and forth. His eyes drooped more than once, but he snapped them back open, still obviously haunted by whatever had happened while Harry was in control of his body. The clock slowly clicked the minutes away, and five o'clock changed to six, and then six changed to seven, before Niall had apparently decided that it was a reasonable time to get out of bed. He looked shaky, pale and unstable, so Harry followed him down the stairs, just in case he toppled over. Not that Harry cared.   
Harry heard the buzzing of a paranormal meter before he saw it, and he was met to the sight of Niall's parents crowded around a machine that was spitting out paper, eyes wide and mouths gaping.   
"What's up?" Niall asked a bit nervously, peeking over their shoulders at the paper.  
"There was a _lot_  of activity last night." Bobby murmured as the thing finished printing before yanking it hurriedly out of the slot and slapping it down on the table. Harry glanced over at it, too. It looked like a earthquake reading like he'd seen on the telly, a long, squiggly line that meant almost nothing to him.   
"There's the constant activity," Bobby mumbled to himself, tracing his finger over the line, "And then... It just goes crazy at about... three forty this morning... And then it stops at five."   
"That's odd," Niall spoke up, "I was having some awful nightmares last night and I woke up at five."   
That had their attention, and now Niall was beginning to look a bit claustrophobic under his parent's intense stares.   
"What _kind_  of nightmares?" His mum pressed, and he shifted uneasily.   
"I don't really remember," He started, "But I think there were a lot of boxes and then I remember watching one boy smother another with a pillow and I was just sort of frozen and I couldn't do anything... and then I woke up?"   
Now it was Harry's turn to stare. Niall had somehow tapped into Harry's brain while he was unconscious and he _saw_  Harry... hurt Louis. He had no idea, of course. Niall had never seen Harry. Well, yes he had, but...  
Harry shifted up to the attic, curling up in a corner and winding his fingers into his own hair and tugging. Hard. Someone else had seen what he had done. How was Niall supposed to be different when his main impression of Harry was a cold-blooded murderer? Harry felt a drop in his chest and he decided that he never wanted to fall in love ever again.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow sorry this took so long i totally could have had it finished like a month ago but i was convinced it sucked for the longest time so yeah enjoyyyy

Of all the things Harry missed about being alive, he never thought he would have missed crying. But now, as he lay in the corner of the attic, his uncomfortable equivalent to crying choking his airway, he longed for nothing more than to feel the satisfying wetness of tears on his cheeks. Instead, choked heaves escaped his lips and shook his body as the rest of his face remained dry. His back smashed into the wall with each heave, but it didn't hurt. The physical pain just didn't register at the moment. Only emotional. So much emotional pain.

  
He missed Louis. He missed him so _fucking bad_  and all he wanted was to feel those strong arms around his torso, those soft lips pressed into his ear, whispering sweet things to him. He wanted someone to kiss him, someone to tell him that there was no need to cry, that he was loved and everything would be okay. He wanted everything to be okay. He wanted people to stop being afraid of him, to stop screaming at him and throwing things at him and to stop _leaving_  him before they even knew him. He wanted people to stop studying him like he was some science experiment. He wanted people to leave him alone, but he didn't want to be left alone.

  
Harry rolled onto his back, limbs stretched wide towards the sloping ceiling, still sniffling back imaginary tears. What was he supposed to do now, just sit up here and become a social invert for the rest of eternity? The idea sounded okay at the moment, but something made him want to go back downstairs. He wasn't sure how long he'd been up in the attic, but it had been a while, and the attic didn't have any windows so he couldn't judge whether it was night or day or somewhere inbetween. His muscles ached as he layed there, and he was slowly beginning to register the sore spot in the middle of his back where it had smashed up against the wall with every sob.

  
A sudden need to know the time sent Harry shifting down to the kitchen of the house, still laying on his back but now in the middle of the kitchen floor. The room was silent and empty, void of human life. The clock on the wall that ticked quietly with each passing second read two thirty, and judging on the darkness, Harry imagined that it was night. But how long had he been shut up in the attic was a mystery, and the nagging feeling of not knowing was making him antsy.

  
He sat up and rubbed at his eyes roughly, wondering how he should go about with getting the date. He could talk to Niall, wake him up maybe. The idea was equally inviting and repulsing. Waking Niall up meant more questions and he may even convince Harry to solidify and then he would see his face and then he would make the connection and... well, Harry wasn't sure if he could handle that quite yet.  
But then again, something about the blonde boy was like a drug, and Harry was starting to feel withdrawal. Maybe there was another way to figure out how many days he'd been inactive.

  
Harry looked around the vacant kitchen for some sort of calendar when he spotted the card table full of equipment. He scrambled to his feet and raced over to one of the machines he recognized, the one that spat out the paper after he had possessed Niall. Long papers with squiggly lines were littered around the floor and the table, more than he remembered. Harry noticed the paper from after the possession and grabbed it up. The date printed in the corner read 10/4. Harry shifted his focus back to the machine. How could he get it to spit out a reading from right this second? Without any other clue of what to do, he started hitting it, poking at the sensors, waving his hands wildly around it. Nothing. Harry frowned and stood back. Suddenly, the thing sprung to life, buzzing crazily as paper spewed out it's mouth. And then it stopped. Harry grabbed the sheet and checked it over. The date printed in the corner read 10/8.

  
Harry let the paper slide out of his grasp and settle on the floor. Four days of inactivity. He felt like he'd missed a lifetime. Four days was practically nothing compared to the 200 years Harry'd been haunting this house, but for some reason that Harry didn't think he could say aloud, four days felt like an eternity. What if he'd missed something while he was busy wallowing in self-pity?

  
Without realizing it, Harry shifted himself up to Niall's room. He'd expected to see the lad sleeping, but he was met with bright lights and the sound of soft fingering from Niall's guitar. The blonde boy was leaning against a wall across from his bed, his eyes closed and his head resting on the wall. His fingers danced across the strings of the guitar easily, playing a tune Harry'd never heard before. Harry sat across from Niall, watching as his fingers slid up and down the neck of the guitar as he changed chords.

  
"Where've you been?" Niall's voice suddenly broke the silence, and Harry started, glancing around to see if there was someone else in the room. He couldn't be talking to Harry, there was no way for him to know that Harry was even in the room.

  
"I asked you a question," Niall said tiredly, and Harry looked back to the smaller boy's face. His eyes were still shut and his fingers still fluttered across the strings and he looked like he hadn't even spoken out, and Harry was starting to doubt his own ears when Niall's eyes snapped open and his bright blue iris's met Harry's.

  
"I asked you a question," He repeated, "It's rude to ignore someone's question. Where have you been?"

  
Harry furrowed his brow and pointed at himself, silently asking if it was him Niall was talking to.

  
"Yes, you. Where've you been?" Niall asked again, sounding a bit annoyed.

  
"How can you see me?" Harry countered, confused.

  
"I asked you a question, first." Niall shot back, his fingers freezing.

  
"I've been upstairs, what's it matter? And how can you see me?" Harry questioned. Niall nodded, the simple tune beginning to flow from his guitar again.

  
"Why were you upstairs?" Niall asked curiously, sounding less annoyed and more tired.

  
"No, now it's your turn to answer _my_  question," Harry laughed humorlessly, "How can you see me?"

  
Niall shrugged, "No clue, you possessed me and now I can see you. Don't know how it all works but that's how it played out, so,"

 

Harry frowned, "How did you know I possessed you?"

  
"Smart parents, I guess," Niall said simply before letting them fall back into silence.

  
"Why did you care that I wasn't around?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

  
"Missed your presence, I reckon." Niall answered, " I could always kinda sense when you were around, could always feel you."

  
Harry crossed his arms tightly across his chest. That was the first time he'd ever heard that.

  
"It made me feel..." Niall hesitated, looking for the right words, "Less lonely? I guess? Knowing someone else was around and I wasn't alone all the time."

  
"It doesn't freak you out?" Harry smirked.

  
"Not when I haven't had a real mate in over seven years." Niall grinned back, "I guess I've sort of forgotten what was weird and what's socially acceptable."

  
"I know that feeling." Harry chuckled. Another silence fell.

  
This easy talkativeness wasn't something Harry was used to. He was used to people screeching at him from the start, and this new friendliness was new, but he wasn't complaining. Not one bit.

  
"So what were you doing, hiding away?" Niall broke the silence this time, putting his guitar aside and drawing his knees up to his chin.

  
Harry swallowed. "I was, um, just, you know, uh," He bit his lip, afraid to continue talking.

  
"You were...?" Niall gave him an encouraging look.

  
"Hiding." Harry finished softly, unable to look up.

  
"Hiding from what? Is there something else in this house?" Niall stiffened up a little, glancing around.

  
"No, nothing that I'm aware of." Harry chuckled darkly, "I was hiding from you."

  
"From me?" Niall sat back, looking confused, "Why from me? I'm not out to kill you, or anything."

  
Harry grimaced, "You'd seen what I'd done to Lou so many years ago. I was afraid you wouldn't want to talk to me or anything if you thought that I was some sort of killer."

 

"Lou? Is that the...?"

  
"Louis, yeah." Harry said quietly, shivering.

 

 

Niall nodded, biting his lip.

 

"Well, to be honest, I was a bit scared when I heard you banging around downstairs, but I can see now that you're not a bad guy. Misunderstood, yeah, but not evil." Niall said with a smile.

 

Harry grinned.

 

"You're the first person to tell me that in a long time." Harry said.

  
"Well, you should hear it more often." Niall replied.

  
"I'm still a bit shocked that you can see me right now." Harry laughed quietly.

  
"Me too," Niall admitted, "I wasn't expecting it at all. But it's not like you're another human being sitting in front of me. I can tell you're not completely there."

  
"I can be completely here." Harry said, bracing himself on the floor suddenly. "Do you want me to be completely here?"

  
Niall blinked in surprise, as if not expecting this offer.

  
"I mean... You don't have to. If it, like, hurts...? Or something?" The boy frowned.

  
"No, it doesn't hurt." Harry smiled, "Just a little pressure."

  
It took a second - he hadn't solidified in a while - but part by part he solidified, feeling decently human.

  
"Well," Niall said after a moment, "Now you're here." Harry laughed.

  
"Yeah, I call it solidifying." He explained. Niall nodded.

  
"Makes sense." He said softly. Suddenly, a huge yawn pushed it's way past his lips.

  
"Oops." He giggled when the yawn died away.

  
"If you want to go to bed, be my guest." Harry said, "It's pretty late."

  
"I think I'll have to take you up on that offer." Niall said with a sleepy smile, getting to his feet. Harry quickly opacified and stood as the blonde boy climbed under his covers.

  
"I'll see you later, yeah?" Harry said, crossing towards the door.

  
"Yeah." Niall grinned, "Goodnight, Harry."

 

"'Night." Harry replied.

  
"Hey, get the lights on your way out." Niall requested, and Harry switched out the lights as he shut the door, feeling a huge grin break out across his face. This could turn out to be even better than he expected.


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I didnt have any direction for this chapter for like a month and then i had no motivation to finish it. So here it is.

Harry woke up the next morning with his head hanging over the edge of the couch and a cat purring deep through his tummy. He sighed heavily and squinted out through his lashes to get some handle on time, and was met with Niall's smiling face, making him start. 

"Good afternoon." Niall said cheerfully, "Did you know you moan in your sleep?" 

"How long have you been sitting there?" Harry groaned, readjusting his head so it wasn't hanging over the edge.

"'Bout an hour," Niall replied, "Doesn't that hurt?"

Harry looked down to were he was indicating, at the cat sleeping happily in the middle of his torso.

"Nah, just tickles a bit." He answered, squirming as the purrs started to register. 

"Does it hurt the cat?" Niall questioned, frowning a little bit. 

"You ask a hell'a lot of questions." Harry muttered, swinging his legs over the side of the couch.

"Never met a ghost before," Niall defended himself with a grin, "It's only natural." 

"Are your parents home?" Harry asked, stretching his arms over his head. Niall shook his head.

"They went out about an hour ago. Mum wants a new table lamp. They'll be out for hours." He explained, but he looked like he wanted to say something else, too, so Harry waited.

"They've been going nuts, you know." Niall finally said after a long hesitation. 

"Your parents?" 

"Yeah. Since the possession, you haven't done squat, and that's making them crazy." Niall chewed his lip. 

"Yeah? So what?" Harry stood, crossing to the mirror across the room to rearrange his hair.

"They keep pestering _me_ about it, since you possessed me and all, and they're doing all these scans on me and stuff..." Niall rambled, sliding onto the couch and pulling Toby onto his lap, who looked disgruntled at the sudden awakening. 

"What do you want me to do, summon Satan or something?" Harry said sarcastically, pulling on one curl that wouldn't get into place.

"Something like that, yeah." 

Harry looked at Niall through the mirror. 

"You're kidding me, right?" He said flatly, "You want me to summon Satan because your parents are annoying you?" 

"Does this face look like it's kidding?" Niall questioned, pointing at his face, which didn't look serious in the slightest. But that was probably the closest he could get. 

"I'm not summoning Satan. You can find someone else if you're that desperate." Harry snorted. 

"You're no fun." Niall pouted, scratching the cat roughly under the chin, making it purr loudly.

Harry frowned. That wasn't fair. Just because he was following the rules didn't mean he was no fun. 

"It's not like I'm aloud to just summon Satan whenever I want. I'd get taken to the Netherworld to burn for an eternity." He explained darkly, flopping down on the couch, "There are rules to haunting the Earth, you know." 

"The Netherworld?" Niall asked, pushing Toby off his lap and standing.

"Basically Hell," Harry elaborated, following Niall into the kitchen, "Only way to get there is through the escortation of Endermen." 

"What's an Enderman?" 

"The Netherlord's henchman, slash assassins, slash prison guards. They're soulless creatures, about 8 feet tall, shadowy looking guys with these long arms and legs and eyes that pierce your soul." Harry said coldly, flopping onto a kitchen chair and putting his feet up on the table. Niall stared at him with big eyes.

"You've seen one before?" He asked in a hushed voice. Harry nodded grimly.

"About a hundred years ago, I was visited with a warning for breaking one of the rules. But it's no big deal. I'm pretty sure they've forgotten all about me." 

"So, it's been in this house?" 

"Yessir."

"Damn," Niall cursed softly, grabbing an apple from the bowl of fruit in the middle of the table. "You've gotten in trouble with the king of Hell." He bit into the apple and chewed thoughtfully, his eyes raking over Harry in a way that made his stomach flip and his cheeks burn. "Maybe you're not so boring after all."

"Shove off." Harry muttered, rolling his eyes, but inside he celebrated a silent victory.

"So you obviously don't want to get in trouble again..." Niall concluded, still watching Harry with that intense stare, "Maybe you could smash a few plates? Write something creepy on the wall in blood?" 

Harry snorted.

"How about I write out a nice little note asking them, very nicely, to get their noses out of your arse?" Harry suggested. 

"On the wall, in blood?" Niall pressed.

"Well, I could do that, but I'd need to use either your blood or your cat's blood." Harry said, amused, smirking when Niall's face fell. 

"Why can't you just use your own blood?" Niall frowned.

"You see, when one dies, they tend to not have any blood in their bodies." Harry explained slowly, pitching his voice like he was talking to a five year old. Niall scowled at him.

"Then how's your face so red?" He shot back. Harry felt his mouth drop open and close repeatedly, like a guppy.

"Now it's even more red. You sure you have no blood?" Niall squinted at him. 

"Yes, I'm sure! I'm not writing in anyone's blood! Just get me, like, a red marker or something!" Harry cried. 

"Sharpie or washable?" Niall smiled in mock-innocence, taking another bite of his apple and rising to his feet. 

"Washable," Harry swallowed hard, rubbing his hand hard across eyes so he wouldn't have to make eye-contact. He he waited until he heard Niall's lazy footsteps pad off down the hall before he took his face out of his hands and slapped his cheeks a few times. 

_Pull yourself together, you blithering idiot,_ He scolded himself as Niall returned into the room with a red marker extended towards Harry. 

"Here is your marker, there's a nice big, empty wall right there," Niall pointed at the wall below the clock, "Get writing." 

"You're awfully bossy." Harry muttered, crossing to the wall. 

"You love it." Niall teased. Harry purposefully ignored him.

He could be nice and write _'Please mind your own business, Love - Harry'_ , but where was the fun in being nice? Even though Niall had forcibly yanked the inner softy out from under his cold, hard shell, Harry was still a ghost: cruel and heartless when it came to scientists. 

He uncapped the pen and wrote across the pale yellow walls in huge, scrawling letters: _"LEAVE ME ALONE" "I HATE YOU" "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE"_ . He stood back to examine his handiwork, then turned to Niall. 

"What do you think?" He asked, gesturing at the wall with a large wave. 

"Perfect," Niall grinned, "They'll be ecstatic." 

"Enjoy this because I'm not going to be doing you regular favors." Harry added. Niall stuck out his lower lip and Harry looked away.

"Why ever not?" Niall pouted.

"Because I'm not going to. I didn't do favors for the last person and I'm not going to do them for you."

"Well, you really are a bit of a stick in the mud, aren't you?" Niall scoffed.

Harry purposefully ignored him again.  
~

Harry insisted over and over again that if Niall played and belted out one more folk song that he would absolutely go mad, but Niall also insisted that Harry loved his singing (which was true) and he wasn't going to stop until Harry told him so (which was never going to happen). Harry threatened to smother Niall repeated times, but he couldn't suppress his laughter. 

Just as Niall was about to start up another song and Harry was about to rip all his hair out, or laugh so hard he dry-heaved, the door downstairs slammed open, the loud sounds of Niall's parent's bustling through the house with their table lamps and whatever else they'd picked up. Niall looked at Harry excitedly before he ran to his bedroom door, cracking it open so he could listen better. Harry took a couple of deep breaths to calm his spastic breathing before joining Niall. The soft murmuring from downstairs changed suddenly to a loud crash and shouting, and then the tell-tale buzzing of that printing thing. Harry heard Niall attempting to suppress laughter, which ended up coming out in muffled snorts. 

"Attractive," Harry muttered,

"Shh," Niall shushed him quickly, not tearing his eyes from the staircase. 

"Niall!" Maura called in near hysterics. 

"There it is." Niall grinned, and motioned for Harry to follow him as he started down the stairs. Harry shifted to the kitchen to find a smashed vase, a pile of pillows and a wooden table lamp scattered across the ground, Bobby pouring over read-outs from that printer, and Maura snapping pictures of the writing on her phone. Niall ran into the kitchen, pretending to look shocked when he saw the wall. 

"What happened?" He asked, looking between his parents. 

"That's what we wanted to ask you!" Bobby replied, writing furiously in the margins of the print-out. 

"Did you see anything? Hear anything? Anything?" Maura asked desperately.

"I've been in my room all day, on my guitar and unpacking and stuff. I heard a few bangs but I figured it was the cat." Niall defended himself, crossing his arms. 

"You're absolutely sure you don't know anything?" Bobby pressed, and Niall shook his head.

"I promise I know nothing." He said, sounding sincere. Harry was impressed. This was the best acting he had seen out of Niall.

"Okay," Bobby finally relented, "Go back up to your room." 

Harry shifted back up to Niall's room, collapsing on the bed and keeping his laughter in, until Niall burst in, his face lighting up when he saw Harry, and neither of them could keep from busting out. 

"That was _amazing_." Niall crowed, falling down next to Harry on the bed.

"Shh! Don't let them hear you talking to me." Harry chided through his giggles. 

"Yeah, sorry, sorry," Niall said, quieter. "You're really cool, Harry, no matter what I say." 

Harry thought his tummy may explode. 

"Thanks." He said casually, but there wasn't anyway to hide his grin. 

~

Harry felt like he had a knack for waking up at three AM. The house was silent when his eyes fluttered open, and without a second thought, he shifted from the couch to Niall's room. The boy was in his bed, his steady breathing and occasional snore filling the room. Harry crawled over to where he could see Niall's face, and leaned back against the wall. 

Niall was pretty when he slept. His skin looked flawless in the dark, his eyelashes dark and his lips perfectly pink. He really was lovely. Harry wanted to crawl in bed with him, to wrap his arms around Niall's small waist and hold him into his chest. He wanted to feel Niall's heart beat against his still one, to feel his warm breaths against his cold skin. He wanted to run his fingers through Niall's hair, to feel it's softness slide across his digits. He wanted to memorize every inch of his porcelain skin. 

Harry let out a rough breath and rubbed his face hard. So there it was, then. No use denying it any longer. He shifted back down to the couch and sprawled out on his back, his left arm and leg hanging off the edge. 

_Here we go again,_ He thought tiredly, and forced himself back into a light slumber.


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking forever, but i just thought i'd let you know that i've been struggling with depression so it's been hard to write, BUT IM DONE :D and its also my longest chapter at ~2400 words :)) enjoy

Maybe falling in love again wasn't worth it. What's the point if it's just one-way? The longer and harder Harry fell for Niall, the more doubts invaded his thoughts. What if Niall found out and thought Harry was stupid or something? What if he didn't even like boys? Maybe he was already seeing someone, someone he hadn't mentioned to Harry. There were so many outcomes where Harry ended up as the fool, it almost scared him to the point of simply cutting off his communication with Niall. But then there was the possibility that Niall wanted to kiss Harry just as badly as Harry wanted to kiss Niall, and at the end of the day, that was what kept him hopeful, what kept him playing along with Bobby and Maura's tireless games, going out of his way to make Niall laugh, and sitting by Niall's bedside in the wee hours of the morning. Harry had almost memorized the freckles on Niall's face. As long as the possibility still held, Harry would keep hoping. 

As Halloween approached, more rapidly than Harry could keep up with, he could practically feel the whole family growing tense; Maura and Bobby in anticipation of something Harry would do (which he wasn't aware he was doing yet), and Niall in anticipation of something his parents would do. The entire situation was making Harry very irritable, and when Harry was irritable he did things without thinking them through. In order to not lash out at anyone or break something he would regret, he ended up in the attic a good portion of the day, either sleeping or rooting through old boxes from past owners or even from his own family, although _those_ boxes were incredibly close to disintegrating at the slightest disturbance. 

The day before Halloween, Harry woke up head-achingly disoriented and on his stomach in the middle of the living room. Hadn't he fallen asleep on a pile of blankets and sheets in the attic? Did he sleep-shift? Was that even _possible_? 

He sat up, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, shook out his hair and took a look around to gauge the time when he noticed Niall, curled up into a tiny ball and drowning in a giant afghan, on the couch beside him. His soft snores echoed off the walls and made the whole room seem warmer. The rising sun hit the crown of his head and made his blonde hair glow like a halo, and Harry was, once again, dumb-struck into speechlessness at the beautiful creature in his presence. He wanted to crawl under the afghan with Niall, to fold him up into his arms and feel Niall's soft breaths against his neck, to feel the rise and fall of his chest against Harry's own. 

Harry forced his eyes away, feeling his cheeks warm up. He was going to make himself throw up if he kept thinking like this. 

Judging by the low-rising sun, it was still early in the morning, probably no earlier than six. The household wouldn't be up and active for another three hours. Harry could probably steal a pillow from the couch and go back to sleep. Just then, a strong gust of wind blew a load of dead leaves at the windows, scraping them against the glass and producing noises that made Harry jump. Okay, so he was too awake to sleep. What did he do when he had time to burn and everyone was asleep? He watched Niall sleep. Harry readjusted himself back on his side and fixed his eyes back on Niall's sleeping face. He really could do this for hours.

~

Harry had guess-timated correctly: about three-ish hours later, Niall started stirring, and Harry snapped his eyes shut, as to not be caught being creepy. He heard a heavy exhalation and the hiss of cloth-on-cloth being rubbed together as Niall turned over. Harry let his eyelids flutter open, like he'd been sleeping the entire time and these quiet noises were just now waking him up. Niall lay on his back, now, stretched out and taking up the entire length of the couch. He rubbed his face roughly, and Harry smirked a little bit.

"Good morning," He said with as much of a morning-voice as he could fake. Niall made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat. 

"You don't by chance remember how I got in the living room, do you?" Harry asked, sitting up. 

"I don't even remember how _I_ got down here." Niall mumbled, rolling back so he was facing Harry and pulling the afghan up around his face. 

"Fair enough."

A silence fell over the two, and Harry laid back on the ground, his and Niall's eyes locking. 

"You look uncomfortable," Niall noted sleepily.

"A little." Harry agreed. Niall yawned.

"Want to come up here with me?" He hummed, squinting at Harry through the tears that had intruded his eyes in the midst of the yawn. Harry's stomach instantly flew south for the winter.

"Are you sure?" He stammered. 

"Yeah, whatever. I'm cold and shit." Niall pursed his lips and his eyes squeezed shut, but his face flushed slightly and Harry grew giddy. "Get over here before I change my mind and make you stay on the floor." 

"Where do you want me to go?" Harry stalled, trying to get his wits back together. 

"Mm, back there," Niall bobbed his head back behind him, "I'll scooch." 

Without thinking twice, Harry shifted behind Niall on the couch, quickly wrapping the smaller boy up into his chest, feeling the afghan settle around them.

"Yeah, good." Niall murmured, more asleep than awake. 

Harry couldn't believe it. Finally, here he was, with this beautiful boy enveloped in his arms. He could feel Niall's soft skin brushing against his own, his t-shirt rucked up a little when Harry was situating himself and the warmth of his back pressed into Harry's hip, making him shiver with every soft breath Niall took. 

"Juss' don' gedda boner, 'er whaddever." Niall sighed before his breaths evened out as he fell back asleep. He fell asleep in Harry's arms. He was sure he'd have to pinch himself because this couldn't possibly be real life. He was like a little duckling, so soft and small and helpless. Harry burrowed his nose into the downy tufts of Niall's hair, his scent - fabric softener laced with lemon candles - nearly overwhelming him. So beautiful, so perfect. Harry couldn't help himself from pressing his lips into the top of Niall's head, before dozing off again himself. 

~

When Harry woke again, he was alone on the couch. Well, not completely alone, as the cat had curled up under his chin. But Niall was not on his skin so he shifted off the couch and into the kitchen, where he found, not Niall, but his parents, tensely going about their day. Maura stiffly wiped down the countertops, while Bobby had started to uneasily replace the broken lightbulb in the refrigerator. Harry wanted to laugh out loud. He doubted that he was going to do anything today. It just so happened that today was the day that is most commonly associated with ghosts. It was just another thursday. 

Harry noticed that the shower upstairs was running, and when he made the connection that Niall was in the shower, he was torn between the urge to shift into the shower with Niall, or to slap himself for even letting those thoughts into his brain. Choosing the latter, he shifted back onto the couch, pulling the cat into the curve of his belly and trying to ignore the singing of running water. 

By the time Niall finally thundered down the stairs, Harry was sure he was going to have an aneurism. Niall raced past him on the couch, using his fingers to comb out his damp hair, and into the kitchen, where he let out a sing-song-y, "Good morning!" 

"It's three o'clock in the afternoon." Maura said tersely. Harry could practically hear the tension, and it made him want to either laugh or gag. 

"Well, excuse me, good afternoon." He corrected himself mockingly. Harry heard a grumbling sound from the adult figures but no yelling, which made sense. You couldn't be angry with Niall, even if he was being a cocky bastard. An uncomfortable silence settled over the house, except for the occasional shuffling from the kitchen, before Niall finally cleared his throat, loudly.

"All right, well, I'm gonna go work on unpacking some more, I'm on the last box." He explained, emerging from the kitchen with a bag of pretzels. He motioned with a grin for Harry to follow him up as he passed the couch, and Harry obediently shifted up to the room. Niall closed the door quietly behind him, and turned his iPod on in the docking station on the desk. A catchy pop song played through the speakers as Niall shoved another handful of pretzels in his mouth. 

"Who's this?" Harry asked, making conversation. 

"Michael Bublé, ever heard of 'im?" Niall said through the food, turning the pretzel towards Harry. He shook his head, declining the food and the question, because he hadn't heard of Michael Bublé. He hadn't kept up with music since he died, and back then, Harry's favorite band was a viola quartet that played in the town square every tuesday and thursday. 

"Missin' out." Niall shrugged, putting down the bag and turning to the last, open box in the middle of his room. "I've been really excited to open this one..." 

Harry drew his knees up to his chest as Niall started pulling things out, his eyes shining with each new item. His old football metals, his first vinyls (a bunch of names that Harry didn't recognize, like The Beatles, Bob Dylan, The Smiths, he lost track after the fourth or fifth), a ziplock of photographs from his childhood, his favorites he explained excitedly as he pinned them up on his door, and his baby blanket, which was red, ratty and covered with blue and yellow fish (Niall blushed pulling it out, and quickly mumbled that he was only keeping it because his mom made him as he shoved it in the top drawer of his dresser). If it was possible, Harry thought he was falling even more in love with Niall. There was something about the way his face lit up with nostalgia as he went through his old keepsakes, something that made Harry's heart feel like it would burst out of his chest. 

Slowly, the box emptied, and when it was all unpacked, Niall slumped down next to Harry on the bed, looking close to drained but still smiling. He glanced over at Harry, his blue irises seemingly brighter. 

"Hey," He started, almost hesitant, "Do you have anything from your time? Like your childhood or whatever?" 

All air vacated Harry's useless lungs. 

"Yeah, I do." He said breathlessly, "Upstairs, in the attic. If you wanna come up there I can show you. I've got a box." 

"Yeah, I wanna come up there." Niall smiled even bigger. 

"Great, I'll meet you up there. The stairs are just pull down, I think. I never use them but I remember watching one of the past owners of the house reinstall them so many years ago and-" He was cut off by Niall's finger on his lips.

"You're babbling." Niall giggled with a stern look. Harry thought his skin would melt off.

"Sorry... I'll be upstairs." He said, shifting before he could do anything else embarrassing. 

Once in the safety of his attic, Harry put his hands up to his face and smiled hard into them. Someone finally cared about him and his past and who he was. Not even Louis had asked to see his personal stuff. 

The staircase came rattling down and Niall came pounding up within minutes of Harry regaining his composure, and he coughed a few times, the dust from the hardly-used stairs stirring up around him. Harry laughed.

"I told you I've never used them." He grinned. Niall glared at him over his hand, but his eyes were sparkling and he was laughing through the wheezes.

When the dust finally settled, Niall shifted his attention from his wellbeing to the rest of the attic, and Harry watched as his eyes drifted across the space in a sort of awe. 

"So you basically live up here?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah. It's the only place that hasn't changed over two hundred years." Harry crossed his arms a little.

"You sleep in that pile of blankets? Isn't that uncomfortable?" 

"Not when I have compiled over seventy blankets over the years." 

Niall laughed and shifted his weight a few times.

"This floor is safe to walk on, right?" He asked.

"Yeah, it's fine." 

Niall crossed to Harry, who crouched down next to a large, wooden crate, the wood close to completely rotting away at the touch. 

"You keep your stuff in a rotted box?" Niall giggled. 

"Hey, I don't judge your life choices." Harry muttered as Niall knelt down beside him. The first thing Harry pulled out was a bronze jewelry box. The hinges was rusty and barely opened, but he managed to wrench it open. 

"My mother's." He murmured, running his fingers along the engravings on the side, _A.S._. He pulled out a locket from the jewelry box, the top which had long fallen off, much to his dismay. 

"That's her, in the heart." Harry showed the remaining side to Niall, where he had carefully placed a now-mosty-faded picture of his mother.

"She was beautiful." Niall said quietly. Harry nodded, and tucked the necklace back into the box, muscling the lid closed and stowing it back in the crate. He then pulled out a moth-eaten child's nightshirt. 

"This was mine." He murmured, running the threadbare cloth through his fingers. Niall sat silently. Harry pursed his lips and tucked the shirt back into the crate, before he pulled out a framed photograph, the glass cracked but not dusty. The photograph itself was washed out from time and incredibly grainy, but still renderable. 

"Me and my mother." He said, and his voice cracked a tiny bit. Niall's arm wound around Harry's waist as a sob escaped His throat. Oh, the discomfort of 'crying'.

"You miss her?" Niall murmured. Harry nodded briefly, and sucked back another sob. 

"A lot more then I'd ever realized," He whimpered, "I took her for granted, the only person who cared for me. 'Nd I can't even remember her voice anymore." 

"No father?" Niall asked, still gripping Harry's waist. 

"No, never knew 'im. Left when I was a baby." Harry sniffled, putting the photo back in the crate. They sat in silence for a moment, while Harry attempted to regain his composure, before Niall cleared his throat. 

"Well," He started, sounding nervous, "as long as our hearts are out on the line, here..." He paused. "Do me a favor?" 

"I already told you I wasn't going to be doing you normal favors." Harry giggled. 

"No, this is different. I want you to do me a favor and... kiss me. Please." 

Harry thought he was going to choke, but before he could react properly, Niall's lips ( Niall's _lips_ ) pressed into his, so sweetly and innocently, it made Harry want to cry. Again. 

Niall pulled away, his face flushed, and he looked at Harry sheepishly from under his lashes. 

"Was that a mistake?" He cringed. 

"No. No, that was the opposite of a mistake." Harry said quickly, and he kissed Niall again, harder this time. Because he could. His hand went up to wind into Niall's downy hair, and his other danced on Niall's jaw, because he could. 

And Niall kissed him back, with his pink lips and glorious tongue and fingers twisting into Harry's shirt and it was all Harry could do to not pin him against the floor. But he could if he wanted. He finally could. Because all his waiting had payed off. 

Because Niall was finally his.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is probs the shortest chapter im gonna have and also sorry it took so long

"Niall! We're leaving! We'll be back sometime around ten or so."

"Kay, mum!"

The front door slammed shut and Niall grinned over at Harry, who was nearly dozing on his shoulder.

"Remind me again where they're going?" Harry mumbled, his head bouncing as Niall readjusted his guitar.

"Visiting friends. For some reason they decided Halloween would be a nice night to reconnect, don't ask me why." He chuckled. Harry sighed contentedly, snuggling closer to Niall. This was the moment he had been waiting for for so long. It was only six, he had four hours alone with Niall, whom he finally knew felt the same way about him. It was only two hours after they had kissed for the first time, and Harry still felt lighter than air. This was everything he wanted, so he just couldn't help that he wrapped his arms tighter around Niall's waist and nuzzled his nose into his neck, peppering kisses across his soft skin, making Niall giggle.

"God, you are absolutely nothing like how you attempted to come off to me." He grinned, his fingers dancing across the strings of his guitar.

"You're beautiful." Harry murmured into Niall's neck.

"Stop it." Niall said softly, his entire face, ears, and neck flushing hot red.

"You're even more beautiful when you blush." Harry said, and Niall blushed even harder.

"Damn Irish skin. Stop." He glanced sideways at Harry, but he was grinning sheepishly and Harry couldn't help but to kiss him on the mouth, because, God, he really was so beautiful and Harry didn't have to hide it anymore and he wanted to shift out on the roof and scream it to the world that "I LOVE NIALL AND HE LIKES ME, TOO," and Niall was proving it, yet again, by pushing his guitar off to the side and wrapping Harry's curls around his fingers and kissing him back for all he was worth, and it was making Harry slightly light headed. Was this even real? But the dull pain of Niall biting his lip confirmed that this was, in fact, real with a shiver that ran all the way down his spine. The sudden pressure of his thighs on Harry's hips as he was straddled was also very real, and it was very real to the sex hormones that had been dormant for so long in Harry.

The rest of the evening flew by in a blur, as much as Harry would have liked to savor each moment. He did recall a few things, however, like somehow ending up in Niall's bed, every inch of the beautiful angel beneath him at his fingertips, and a mind-blowing sensation that left Harry speechless and breathless.

As they lay, panting, tangled up in eachother and the sheets, Harry let his head rest on Niall's chest, listening to his frantic heartbeat: thuthumthuthumthuthum, pounding against Harry's ear. He felt Niall's calloused fingertips brush across his shoulder blades, leaving goosebumps up and down his spine. Harry lifted his head to press a soft, lingering kiss into the other boy's jaw bone.

"I've never done anything like that before." Niall murmured, turning one of Harry's curls over between his fingers.

"Well, it certainly didn't show." The ghost reassured him.

"You weren't so bad yourself," Niall smirked, and then let out a yawn. "What time is it?"

"Nine-thirty," Harry told him after locating the clock. Niall hummed in recognition, not opening his eyes. Soon, his breathing evened out and Harry knew he'd fallen asleep.

Harry let his gaze travel over the sleeping angel under him, from his flushed chest to his peaceful face. It seemed almost ironic that they should make love on this night, Halloween, the night when ghosts are said to be most cruel and bloodthirsty. He didn't let himself linger on it, though, because it was simply too perfect to question, and it seemed that if he dwelled on it, he'd somehow wake up from this dream, and he'd be alone and heartless again.

He let his head press back into Niall's smooth chest, his now-quiet heartbeat lulling him into a dreamless sleep.

~

The next morning, Harry woke up to the feel of cool sheets pressed against his cheek, and his fingers curled around the linens, searching for another warm body that evidently wasn't there.

Harry rolled onto his back and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Niall was absent from the bed and the room. Harry felt sticky, sore and thoroughly fucked, so he flopped back over, waiting for Niall to come back from the bathroom or the kitchen or from wherever he was.

He waited for an hour before he decided that Niall wasn't coming back to him. Harry frowned and pushed himself off the mattress, struggling into his boxers and translucefying before shifting to the kitchen, where Maura was sipping coffee at the table and looking absolutely hungover. A quick scan of the room confirmed that Niall wasn't there and his shift to the living room was also met by an absence of Niall. Harry frowned, but assumed that he must have gone out. That was the only other option. Maybe he went out to the store or something. Hopefully he'd be back soon.

~

Minutes quickly turned to hours and Niall still hadn't returned from wherever he was, and Harry wasn't the only one panicking. Niall wasn't answering Maura or Bobby's phone calls, and they discovered that his phone was still on his bedside table.  
  
The fact that Niall had simply vanished without a trace or a word of warning made Harry nervous on a few different levels. There were plenty of things that love to snack on teenage boys, Harry knew because he's been in close encounters with several of them. What if one of those things snatched Niall up while he was sleeping and gobbled him down so fast that he didn't have a chance to scream? The mere thought made Harry sick to his stomach. All he knew was that whatever was going on here, he had to get to the bottom of it.

Harry shifted back up to Niall's bedroom, flopping over on the bed and curling up in the covers. Where in the world could he have gone? It wasn't like he'd just skipped town. He wouldn't do that, would he?

Suddenly, Harry's eyes caught a glimpse of something in the carpet on Niall's side. He frowned, rolling off the bed and going over to investigate.

When he saw it, a sick flood of realization swept over him, and he wondered how he hadn't noticed it before. A large, black spot was burned into the carpet next to Niall's bed, and closer inspection of it confirmed it wasn't something human eyes could see.

But Harry could see it, and he'd seen it before. He hadn't seen it in ages, but he'd recognize that pattern anywhere.

An Enderman had been in the room. And Harry was more than willing to bet that it had come specifically for Niall.

~

Harry shifted himself downstairs, close to tears. This was his fault, all of it. Niall was in the Enderworld thanks to him. They were probably doing unimaginable things to him...

Harry let out a choked sob and curled up defeatedly on the couch. How was he supposed to get Niall back? He couldn't get to the Enderworld without Enderman escort, and those bastards only came out when you were being bad.

Harry stiffened. Being bad. That's what he had to do. He needed to be bad again. Niall was probably taken down because they had made love. So now he just needed to show romantic interest in someone else.

Harry shifted himself into the kitchen, where Maura was spiking her coffee and Bobby was on the phone with someone, giving a description of Niall. Harry took a deep breath, because if this didn't work, he'd be in some seriously deep shit, and opacified in the middle of the kitchen.

The shatter of the whiskey bottle hitting the ground all but made up for the stunned silence that came from the two adults. They stared at him like he was bearing a knife and had threatened to slit their throats.

"H-Harry?" Bobby finally stammered out, hitting the end button on the phone. Harry nodded.

"I know where your son is." He said quietly. That statement startled them into action, and they approached him almost faster than he could move away. Almost.

"Where is he? We're worried sick." Maura pleaded with him. Harry grimaced.

"You're not going to like what I tell you, but I could get him back and you wouldn't even have to know where he's gone." Harry said slowly.

"No, I want to know where my son is." Bobby said shakily. Harry sighed.

"Niall's in Hell. Literally." He finally said, "I can get him out but I need your help."

The color from the adult's faces drained faster than you could say Enderworld.

"What do you mean, he's in Hell? How did it get there?" Bobby demanded.

Harry felt his face flush. "That part really isn't important. But I need your help to get him back."

"Okay. What do you need us to do?" Maura finally said.

Harry chewed his lip. "See, I'm wanted pretty hardcore by the King of the Enderworld, and I've got an idea of how to get myself down there. I'm not sure if this is going to work, but I'm pretty sure it will," He glanced at Bobby, "I know neither of you are going to be very happy about this but I don't have many options. Just... please don't punch me."

With that, Harry shifted over to Maura and kissed her on the mouth. He heard a shout and all he could think about was how much he hated kissing girls. Bobby ripped him off his wife with a firm grip, his face beet red and Maura's absolutely shocked, but it worked, because he could feel the Enderman's presence before he saw it. When he turned around, the Enderman towered over him, the aura around it staining the walls and the floor a dark, burnt red. Harry felt Bobby's arm fall of of him as he stumbled back to protect his wife.

"Harry Styles," The Enderman said in Harry's head in it's deep, raspy, and breathy voice that left Harry covered in goosebumps, "You've been given three warnings. You have broken Law #87 in the Law of the Dead 25 times. You will now serve out 250 years of torture in the Enderworld." Suddenly, it's arm shot out and it grabbed Harry by the arm, closing around his bicep in a death lock, and, with a flash of red and a feeling in his gut like he'd gotten suckerpunched, the house was gone.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smh this is really short too sorry sorry sorry

Harry hadn't realized he'd blacked out until the ache in his back woke him up. All around him was the sound of torture and mayhem and a feeling of fear had knotted itself in his stomach before he'd even opened his eyes. 

When his eyes finally did slide open, at first he'd thought he'd gone blind. It was pitch black all around him and his vision simply wouldn't adjust, no matter how many times he blinked or shook his head. Accepting that he was going to be blind forever, he let himself take stock of his surroundings.

His wrists were heavy when he tried to move his hands, and he discovered that heavy shackles bound him to the stone wall. His ankles were also attached to the floor, which was also made of stone. Harry slumped back into the wall, feeling defeated. How was he supposed to rescue Niall if he was bound and blind? 

Suddenly, a light flickered in his peripheral vision, and his head whipped around to find the source. Was his imagination playing tricks on him? Or was there really someone - something - around? He didn't know which was worse. 

Slowly, the light, which was rusty in color and not nearly as bright as it had seemed at first, grew larger as it neared Harry. He took a good look at his surroundings in the dim light; maybe there was a rock he could use to smash his shackles with and then a window to escape from. But who was he kidding? This was the Netherworld, basically the best prison in existence. 

Unfortunately, his cell was tiny and as clean as a cell can be, completely free of rocks and windows and anything other than Harry himself and piles of dirt and dust and possibly human remains. Harry looked back to the light, which had now become identifiable, and all the heat rushed from his body. 

A softly burning Enderman came floating down the hallway. It stopped in front of Harry's cell, blocking the door but not opening it. 

"Harry Styles," It said in it's raspy, breathy voice, "You have been summoned by the King of Ender. You will be escorted immediately." 

The Enderman breezed through the bars as if they didn't exist and grabbed Harry by the forearm, and suddenly, they were in the King's throne room. 

Harry immediately wished he was anywhere else. The room seemed to glow a deep red, every surface bathed in an unearthly, blood color. It was decorated with artwork made from bones and other remains, most likely human, and artwork depicting gruesome scenes of torture. The King himself was standing in front of a strongly burning fireplace, a glass of dark liquid in his hand. 

Harry instantly stiffened at the sight of the King. It had been ages since he'd last seen him, and it hadn't been a friendly encounter. The King was nothing short of beautiful, his raven-black hair a perfectly imperfect mess on his head, his fit body clothed in darkly colored crushed velvet. His dark skin was the color of mocha and looked smoother than silk. 

Harry grimaced and looked around again. Suddenly, he noticed a shock of blond hair in the corner of the room that he hadn't noticed before. There was Niall, bound tightly to a rack. His stomach was sliced open and blood ran down his torso, along with many other cuts and deep gashes on his arms and legs. He was unconscious, but he whimpered occasionally, obviously in pain.

The sight filled Harry with an uncontrollable rage.

"What the hell do you want with him?" He shouted at the King, "What did he do?" 

Harry heard the King chuckle and he took a sip of his drink before he turned slowly, his eyes flashing black. 

"Must you shout, Mr. Styles?" He asked in his smooth, venomous voice, "That's no way to greet a friend." 

"Friend, my ass," Harry spat, "Don't fuck around with me, just let Niall go and let me take his place instead." 

"Hmmm," The King pursed his lips and crossed his arms, stroking the dark stubble on his chin in mock thought, "No. But have no fear," 

He snapped his fingers and Niall let out a gasp, the wounds in his body suddenly healed, "The lad is perfectly fine and healthy." 

"Please, stop..." Niall whimpered, opening his eyes and looking up in fear. When he noticed Harry, he made a noise like he was choking and started automatically pulling at his restraints.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He asked.

"Trying to save you..." Harry replied sheepishly.

"Well you're doing a fabulous job, now, aren't you?" Niall said sarcastically. 

"Niall, I'm sorry," Harry pleaded, "This is my fault and I'm going to fix it." 

The King barked out a laugh at that and made a twisting motion with his hand, and suddenly Niall made a guttural gasp started vomiting blood. 

"Stop it! Stop!" Harry begged, trying to break free from the Enderman's grasp but failing.

"Both of you shut up, or I'll be forced to cut your vocal chords out." The King growled, and Harry bit his lip. 

"What do you want from us?" Harry said quietly, carefully.

"I want your heads on a stick for all of eternity." The King said. 

"I already said I would take his place!" Harry cried. The demon glared at him and, with a twist of his hand, Harry felt as though something large and spiny had been shoved down his throat.

"I said, shut up." The King repeated and then rubbed his temple with his free hand, "I'm growing tired of this. Liam!" 

A man that Harry hadn't noticed before sprang to life from his position behind the King's throne.

"Yes, your majesty?" He asked, wringing his hands nervously. 

"Take these two to the dungeon. I'll finish my conversation with them later." The King said with a dismissive wave, walking back to the fireplace. 

"Right away, your highness." Liam said with a bow, before dashing over to Harry. 

"I'll take it from here." He said in a firm, but slightly quavering, voice to the Enderman behind Harry. The entity released it's grip on his arm, and Liam quickly snatched him up before running over to Niall and snapping his fingers to free the chains that held him. He grabbed Niall as he fell and, in an instant, they were in the same dank prison that Harry had been in before.

"You two had better watch yourselves," Liam said sternly as he threw them in separate cells, "His royal highness won't stand for those who don't hold their tongues." 

"Are you like, his royal bitch?" Harry retorted, finally free of the blockage in his vocal chords.

Liam glared at him, his face flushing a hot red, before locking the cells and vanishing. 

Harry sighed heavily before turning to Niall. The blonde haired boy looked the other way.

"Ni, I'm sorry..." Harry tried to apologize, but Niall just wiped the blood from his chin and crossed his arms, not meeting Harry's eyes. 

"I didn't mean for this to happen... The least you could do is look at me!" Harry said, crawling over to the bars that separated them.

"How am I supposed to look at you when you lied to me? When you lied directly to my face?" Niall asked icily. 

"When did I do that?" Harry asked.

"When you told me that you were no longer in trouble. You told me, to my face, that us being in a relationship wouldn't get you, or me, in trouble." Niall stated.

"I was just trying to keep you safe..." Harry said softy.

"Safe?" Niall laughed harshly, "I've been gutted and re-gutted more times than I can count. I've had my throat slashed so many times I lost track, and I've been close to bleeding out about a thousand times since I was taken down here on account that you needed to learn your lesson." 

"I didn't mean for it to happen!" Harry pleaded.

"You keep saying that, but it happened. It happened and I just puked more blood than I thought I had in my body and you saying 'you didn't mean for it to happen' means absolutely nothing to me." Niall spat, "You can go to Hell for all I care. Don't try to talk to me anymore. And if you can, by some miracle, get us out of here, I never want to see you again." 

"You don't mean that." Harry stammered, feeling tears start to push at the back of his eyes.

"Look at my face and tell me I don't mean it," Niall rebutted, "I'm through with you, Harry."

A choked sob escaped Harry's throat. "Do you think that I wanted any of this to happen? All I wanted was to find love again, after I'd already lost so much. I didn't know that they'd get you involved, I don't know why you're here. If they wanted to punish me, why didn't they just take me? I don't know the answers to any of those questions, Ni. But I love you. I still love you and I'll always love you. I'm so, so sorry that I got you involved and I'll regret it for the rest of eternity." 

With that, he crawled to the back of his cell and chewed on his lip. It was too dark too see anything, but he knew that he wasn't the only one crying.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow so i finally finished this. sorry about the wait i know it was like a year. you'll probably want to go back and reread chapter 8. hope this makes up for all of it... also, massive tw for gore and blood in this chapter... read with caution if that kind of thing gets you

"It's just so hard, you know? I try to be a reasonable king..."

"Of course, your majesty."

The King rubbed his temple, swirling the wine in his glass impatiently.

"It's my job to teach the evil souls their lessons. They come to me, I rip out their hearts for the rest of eternity. That's how it works, everyone knows that, don't they?" He thought outloud.

"Of course, your highness." Liam agreed readily.

"You know what? I'm sick of all that 'highness' shit. We are close enough that you can call me Zayn," He smirked and grabbed Liam's collar, pulling the now red man down to his mouth and murmuring, "Unless we're in bed together."

Liam made a choked noise in the back of his throat.

"Yes, Your H-... Zayn." He stammered, catching himself. The King released his collar with a chuckle and a kiss to the side of Liam's mouth. Liam stumbled backwards like he'd been slapped as Zayn took a long gulp of his wine, finishing it off.

"Li, be a dear and refill my glass." He ordered lightly, chewing his lip and watching the fire.

Liam grabbed a bottle of red wine out of the air and quickly refilled the glass. The King took a long sip before sighing heavily.

"Why do I have to deal with the star-crossed lovers? It's not my fault that they can't follow the damned rules!" He exclaimed.

  
"Of course not." Liam agreed.

"The dead should stay dead and the living should stay living until they die," Zayn grumbled, "That's how it works. You shouldn't fuck around with the limits."

"That's when it starts to get unholy." His man-servant muttered in addition. The King giggled gleefully at the statement.

"Holy things in Hell; I love it." He chirped, taking a sip of wine. He then sighed heavily, again, looking contemplatively into the fire. A silence dragged on as Zayn stared at the dancing flames. The longer he was silent, the more nervous Liam became. He'd rather have a screaming King than this brooding one, because at least then he would know what sick things were running through his brain.

Finally, Zayn stood.

"Bring me the ghost, we have a conversation we need to finish."

"Right away, your Majesty." Liam squeaked, and was gone before he could realize his mistake. The King just smirked lovingly and sat back in his throne of bones, waiting for the curly-haired abomination to make his entrance.

~

This was hell. In the literal and metaphorical sense. It took hours for Harry to finally stop crying - which he found he could do now - and when he had stopped, the sounds and smells of death and torture pounded on his senses relentlessly. He felt sick to his stomach. He wished he was anywhere else, in any other situation. This was all his fault. If he had just minded his own damned business, neither of them would be in this situation. Why did they even implement that stupid rule? Why couldn't he be in a relationship with someone alive? They should just mind their own damn business and leave the dead alone. It gets lonely, being trapped in that musty house for all of eternity with no one who understands you. Everyone is either too afraid to stick around, or they're like Niall's parents: only interested in their own gains. No one cares about what Harry wants, what Harry feels. No one asks how he's feeling. He's tired of being alone, tired of being lonely. If he wasn't already dead, he would have killed himself again. If he had known that this is what the afterlife was like, he definitely wouldn't have hung himself that day. This was hell.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when the King's Royal Bitch appeared in his cell, only inches away from him.

"What do you want." Harry snarled at him as the man grabbed his wrist and pulled Harry to his feet.

"You were requested by His Royal Highness. Keep your backtalk to yourself." the Royal Bitch replied shortly, and Harry quickly found himself in the throne room. "I have Harry, just as you requested."

"Thank you, love." The King replied lazily from his chair. He eyed Harry with interest and dropped his wine glass, which vanished an instant before it shattered all over the ground.

"Harry Edward Styles... I thought we discussed this before," He mused as he rose and slowly walked towards the ghost, "The dead and the living don't mix."

"Your rules are stupid." Harry spat. The King laughed.

"MY rules? These aren't my rules. I'm simply following them," He stated, "You could have the decency to do the same."

"I would think that you'd enjoy a bit of chaos up top." Harry grimaced.

"Oh, I do, but there's only so much chaos that can happen before things turn sour." The King explained, "We can't have an intervention."

"An intervention? From who?" Harry asked.

The King stared at Harry for a moment, as if contemplating whether to rip out his throat or not, before smirking. "None of your business." He replied. "Liam, put him on the rack for me, will you?"

"Yes, Your Highness." The Bitch - Liam - replied. They shifted to a much smaller, bloodstained room with a large, equally bloodstained table, which Liam immediately threw Harry down onto with a strength he wouldn't have imagined possible. He was bound before he had the chance to struggle. The King shifted into the room and was shortly followed by a table filled with instruments of torture.

"Welcome to your first day of hell." The King grinned as he selected a long knife and turned to Harry. The first stab went through Harry's torso like a hot knife through butter, and he felt it rip through his flesh and organs and then the tug as it was forced out again. Pain raced through his body as he felt the blood begin to pulse out of the wound, and he screamed out in pain. The King jabbed into him again, and again, and again, each time making sure to hit him in a non-fatal way so that he would bleed out slowly. Blood began pooling in the back of his throat, and every time he coughed, a fresh wave of blood would cascade down his front. He felt tears racing down his cheeks. He couldn't help but to count the times the blade sliced through him, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12... By the time The King finally stepped back, Harry was flickering on the edge of consciousness and his total had racked up to a staggering 37 stab wounds. The entire front of his shirt and jeans were completely saturated with his blood. The pain was constant and overpowering. Why hadn't he passed out yet? Why was he still awake? Every time he closed his eyes, a rush of adrenaline would force them back open and a violent twitch would rack his body. Why wasn't he dead? Suddenly, a faint snap echoed across the room, and the pain was gone.

"How was that? Painful?" The King grinned. Harry glowered at him, panting.

"That was nothing," He lied with a grin. The King chuckled and put the knife down.

"Good, because you've got 250 more years of that to look forward to," The King glanced over at Liam, "Take him back to his cell."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The Royal Bitch replied, and unchained Harry before shifting him back to his cell. "An Enderman will come for your next session." He told Harry before disappearing.

He slumped down against the back wall of his cell and a whimper escaped from his lips. What had he gotten himself into?

~

The next session was in his cell, as were the one after that, and the one after that. He reckoned they would be there from now on. An Enderman would come to his cell, strap him onto a rack, torture him for an undefined amount of time, heal him, and then leave without a word. Harry quickly lost track of time. His perception was reduced to torture and the time between it. Sleep was fleeting and restless. The only difference between consciousness and unconsciousness was he remembered being awake. The darkness quickly became his friend. No one could see him and he couldn't see anyone. He heard the screams and cries, but they were easy to block out. All he had to do was punch himself in the side of the head or jam something (usually his pinky finger or a bone shard) far enough down his ear canal so that it would rupture the drum. Most of his time was spend lying on his back, letting the stars in his eyes completely overwhelm him. It was like being lost in the universe, which really isn't as bad as it sounds. If he focused solely on the feeling of his breathing and the twinkling lights rushing past him, he didn't have to think about anything else.

He especially didn't have to think about Niall, who was less than 20 feet away from him and refusing to talk to him. The worst times were right after his torture, when he was healthy and alone, before he could deafen himself, and an Enderman would come for Niall. He couldn't see the torture taking place, but hearing Niall's screams and cries were just as bad. It took everything he had to not scream with him. Those were the times that his eardrums got jammed out the fastest.  
If he had known that this is what the Netherworld had to offer, he never would have killed himself in the first place.

  
Niall held true to his word. Through all of the pain and suffering, he never spoke one word to Harry. Harry had tried a few times in the beginning to give some sort of apology, but quickly gave up when he saw that it simply wasn't going to work. That's why, one time after a particular painful session that left him in the fetal position in the corner of the cell, sobbing and crying for his mother, Niall's voice across the void startled him so much.

"Harry...?" He heard Niall say tentatively once Harry had stopped crying to breathe. He shut up instantly, wiping the snot from his face.

"Niall? Is that you?"

"Yeah... Are... Are you okay?" Niall sounded concerned. Harry laughed bitterly.

"What do you think?" He replied grimly. Niall was silent for a moment, a valid answer to Harry's question.

"What did they do to you?" He asked finally. Flashbacks spun through Harry's head, making him shiver.

"I really don't want to talk about it." Harry said, wrapping his arms around himself tightly.

"I'm sorry..." Niall said softly.

"No, Niall, I'm sorry," Harry jumped on the oppertunity to get his apology out there, "This whole thing is my fault."

"Harry..." Niall tried to interrupt.

"No, listen. I'm serious. I shouldn't have gotten involved with you. I was... I was just so lonely... You don't understand how lonely it gets. And to find someone as open minded as you... It was just a miracle. I honestly couldn't help falling in love with you. But I shouldn't have been so selfish. This is all my fault, and I'm so, so sorry."

Niall was silent. Harry bit his lip. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to apologize.

"I understand why you did it," Niall said finally, causing Harry to gasp silently, "And... It's okay. Don't feel bad about wanting to be loved."

Niall's words sent a fresh wave of tears down Harry's face.

"I love you so much." He stammered out.

"I... I love you, too." Niall said.

Harry couldn't help but to collapse in sobs. He may be in Hell, but at least he was loved by the most amazing boy in the entire universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im gonna try my hardest to stay on top of this work again. i apologize again for making everyone wait for so long. theres only a few chapters left (that i have planned), so im gonna try and get this done by the end of the year. hopefully i'll get a chapter up every month or so.


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